Mothers & Fears
by Reetinkerbell
Summary: In which Fred does something bad and Hermione is not amused. FredxHermione.


**Title:** Mothers & Fears  
**Author:** Reetinkerbell  
**Pairing:** Fred/Hermione  
**Summary:** In which Fred does something bad and Hermione is not amused.  
**Written:** June 2005. **Edited:** May 2006.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own.  
**Distribution:** Links only please.

**Mothers & Fears** (1/1)

"Where is he?" was the first thing that came out of the very pregnant Hermione Weasley's mouth as she all but stormed into the joke shop owned by her husband and his twin brother. When no one answered her, she glared at the latter, who stood behind the counter looking like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.

"Where is he?" she asked again, her voice dropping dangerously low.

George pointed mutely at a door to the left, which was partially obscured by a large bookcase. He watched with a mixture of worry and growing amusement as Hermione stalked across the store and disappeared through the door.

He'd never seen her that mad, not even when she found out that he'd been the one who got Fred utterly drunk the night before their wedding. And whilst he found the sight of her stomping awkwardly between the display counters – eight months' pregnant belly and all – more than slightly comical, he feared for his brother's life. He had no idea what Fred had done to put his wife in such a bad mood, but he did know something for sure.

He was glad he wasn't in Fred's shoes right now.

----

"Fred Weasley!"

Fred turned from the shelves he was stocktaking. "Why hello love, what a nice surprise. I thought you said you were eating lunch with my mother?" He completely ignored the furious way in which his wife had shouted his name. Hermione's hormones had been wreaking havoc ever since she got pregnant and after months of having to suffer through her wild mood swings, he felt that he'd finally learned to deal with them appropriately.

Unfortunately for him, he was wrong.

"How dare you?" Hermione asked, near tears.

"Er...what did I do?" Fred asked, frowning. She couldn't possibly be this mad because he'd eaten the last piece of the chocolate cake his mother had baked for them, could she?

"Your mother?" Hermione reminded him as if he was very stupid, annoyed that she had to tell him, when he should have known what was bothering her.

"What about my mother?" he asked, confusion written all over his freckled face. He put down the parchment he'd been holding and took a tentative step towards his frazzled wife. She seemed to be in one of her worse moods, and he had to thread carefully, least he end up sleeping on the couch for months.

"She told me that you asked her to move in with us once the baby was born!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh...that..." Fred hedged, taking another step towards her.

"Yes. _That_. I can't believe you. You actually asked her to move in with us to help us take care of our baby?"

"Well love, she's my mother-"

"I don't care that she's your mother. You owl her right away and tell her that she's _not_ moving in with us. Ever."

"But love," Fred tried to cajole. "She's raised seven children. Despite all the book that you've-I mean, _we've_ read on the subject of raising children, she knows what she's doing from experience. And she's lonely now that Ginny's left home and Dad got his new job. She just wants to feel needed again."

"I know that. But she has other grandchildren. She doesn't have to move in with us. I'm more than capable of taking care of our son on my own, thank you very much."

"I know love," he replied, nodding to show her how much he agreed. He was now within reach of his wife, and he carefully wrapped his strong arms around her, brining her as close to his chest as he could, mindful of her pregnant belly containing their first child.

"You don't think I'm going to be a good mother, do you?" Hermione asked, sniffing as tears began to form in her eyes.

"What? No, of course I don't think that. You'll be a great mother. Bloody brilliant," Fred was quick to reassure her, having gone through this several times over the past seven months since they found out she was pregnant.

"Then why?" Hermione asked, looking up at him. Fred met her eyes, and his heart broke at the sight of her tears; her usually bright and sparkling brown eyes now sad and watery.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning down to burrow his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. "I'm a right git." He subconsciously began to rub the small of her back, knowing it soothed her. "I'm just scared," he confessed, his voice muffled by her hair.

"Of what?" Hermione asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of failing as a father. As a husband. That something might happen to you or our child that I can't prevent or put right. I thought that having mum there would help."

"Oh love," Hermione breathed, relieved he wasn't thinking that she would be a terrible parent, but sad he thought he'd be. "Look at me," she continued, her hands cupping his cheeks and raising his head so that she could look into his blue eyes. "You will be an amazing father. And you _are_ a wonderful husband. You won't fail."

"But what if-"

"We are both scared. I think that my parents were scared when they had me. And I'm sure your parents were scared when they had Bill. When they had all of you. It comes with the territory," Hermione replied, smiling fondly up at him. "And things happen, there's nothing we can do about that. Nothing anyone can do. We'll deal with the problems if and when they come our way. All right?"

"All right," Fred agreed, smiling back at her.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Fred replied, bending down to kiss his wife, carefully bringing her even closer to his body as their kiss deepened.

Suddenly, Hermione pulled back and pushed him away from her. Fred frowned.

"When we get home, you're owling your mother," she said sternly, giving him a hard look.

Fred smiled. Ever the bossy one, Hermione, but he wouldn't change that for the world. "Of course dear," he answered, in a tone of voice he knew would infuriate her, before bending down to kiss her again, effectively preventing her form saying anything more on the subject.

**The End.**


End file.
